My Unconquerable Soul
by Foonator
Summary: Harry has been beaten down, but not broken. Manipulated, but he will regain control. For he is an unrelenting man. An indomitable spirit.  An unconquerable soul.


**AN: First Harry Potter story. Please be sure to review. Reviews beyond the usual "nice chap" that express your opinions of the story and what you think would be awesome additions (even if they probably won't be added) shall earn you a cake. And yes, the cake is a lie. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J. K. Rowling does.**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Harry Potter came into a world of violence and intrigue. Events surrounding the condition of his birth would ensure he would be the subject of many plots. For young Harry would, it seemed, would become a wizard who could be comparable to the likes of Dumbledore in terms of raw power, according to various tests carried out at birth. Such plots only intensified upon the revelation of a prophecy that foretold the destruction of the most feared Dark Lord since Grindelwald himself: Lord Voldemort. Harry was one of two candidates that could fulfill said prophecy, thus his fate became particularly important to both sides of the war. The boy's parents, unknown to anyone else, had called in some… old friends in order to give their child unparalleled protection. Tying together the strength of Runes, Blood Magic, and Wards to Harry's substantial magical core (bolstered by his parents) provided him a shield that could perhaps shield him from the Dark Lords wrath. That, coupled with the other defenses layered around the Potter family had them reasonably sure that they would be safe for a while.

But a change in secret keepers for the Fidelius Charm resulted in Voldemort himself appearing on their doorstep one Halloween night. James Potter was quickly dispatched. Lily Potter was sent to be with her husband a short while later. Only a toddler, with eyes as green as the Killing Curse itself, remained between him and his ultimate victory.

But in his haste, Voldemort failed to consider any safety measures his parents set up in the events of their death. Should they ever die within the confines of their home, the Potters had arranged things so the entireties of their magical powers were diverted into protecting their boy. James and Lily were nothing if not powerful wizards. They had managed to duel Voldemort by himself to a standstill three times already, even if any confrontation longer than a few minutes would have resulted in their untimely deaths. It proved to be Voldemort's undoing. The combination of dozens of various factors all ensured that when the Dark Lord attempted to murder the last of the Potter line that fateful night, the curse meant for little Harry would rebound and rip Voldemort's soul from his body. The magical backlash nearly annihilated the entire house. All that remained was a very magically depleted Harry Potter (something that would take a few years to recover from) and the ruins of the home of a loving family to bear testament the end of a long and bloody war.

_Out of the night that covers me,_

_Black as the Pit from pole to pole,_

_I thank whatever gods may be_

_For my unconquerable soul._

Harry Potter. Six years old. Currently playing a rousing game of Harry Hunting during recess at school. As per usual, he was running for all he was worth from Dudley and his cohorts. It was not unusual to find Harry in such a situation, but the tenacity with which they pursued him was. Some unfortunate soul had spoken up against the insults Dudley had given Harry today. As the group of bullies advanced upon the poor boy to "teach some manners," Harry intervened the only way he knew how: barreling into Dudley to knock him down, thus drawing their attention away from the poor kid. A chase began. A minute or so in, Harry had a stroke of genius and used a banana peel from lunch (he hadn't gotten a banana for lunch, just the banana peel) to trip up the closest of his pursuers. He might have a good laugh about it later.

Harry sprinted along the narrow alleyway formed by the school wall to the left and the fence to right. He skidded into a left turn and pulled up abruptly. A dumpster blocked his way and his tormentors were nearly upon him. He turned around as the group rounded the corner and charged him.

'_Why?'_ thought Harry. _'Why can't I stop them? Why can't I fight back? Why? Why? Why? WHY!'_

His thoughts came to an abrupt end when the group of five bullies was suddenly blown back by some invisible force. They sailed six feet back into the fence behind them. It looked like Dudley had hit his head. It was only a few seconds before a couple of them began to shakily rise. Harry panicked. _'I've got to get out of here! Somewhere, anywhere but here!'_ He turned to run, but suddenly found himself feeling as if he were being squeezed through a tube. He dropped to his knees as a brief wave of nausea overcame him. He opened his eyes to find himself on the roof of his school.

'…_What?'_

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_

_I have not winced nor cried aloud._

_Under bludgeonings of chance_

_My head is bloody, but unbowed._

Vernon's reaction had been more violent than he had anticipated. Sure, he'd always been verbally beat down and the occasional slap to the back of his head was not out of place. But this…

This made Harry feel fear which surpassed even that nightmare. The nightmare with the woman's scream and the green light.

The belt continued to fall on his curled up form, red welts springing up wherever the vicious lashes feel. His Aunt stood by with something akin to concern on her face. Dudley was currently upstairs in his room. His uncle was beginning to slow down, the degrading names were being replaced by grunts of exertion and panting, and the belt was falling less frequently. Harry was glad his uncle was so grossly out of shape.

For a minute or two, Harry just laid there while his uncle panted and his aunt merely watched on. He was vaguely aware that no blood had been drawn despite the metal tip of the belt. Surely the strikes to his face should have drawn some. His musings were interrupted when Vernon grabbed Harry's hair and his left arm. He dragged him across the kitchen floor and flung him bodily into the closet.

"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT EVER HARMING MY SON AGAIN WITH YOUR FREAKISHNESS!" And without further ado, he slammed the door.

Dudley had undoubtedly deserved what had happened to him. Harry refused to be cowed by the bullies that were his cousin and his uncle. The beat him because they believed they were above him. Superior to him. They were normal and he was the freak. Such hypocrisy. He knew this was not the natural order of things. He had already tried telling others of his plight, and it had been met by disbelief. There were never any physical signs of abuse, his aunt and uncle were upstanding members of the community, and they had long before poisoned his reputation. Until now, the worst they had done was withhold food for a week (not that he had regular, filling meals in the first place).

'_Don't fight back, eh?_' Harry smirked for the briefest of moments. _'Watch me.'_

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_

_Looms but the horror of the shade,_

_And yet the menace of the years_

_Finds, and shall find, me unafraid._

For the longest time, Harry merely lay there in a state of comatose. Eventually he fell asleep. The nightmare prevented him from even finding solace in unconsciousness. Upon waking, however, imagine his surprise to find himself fully healed from yesterday's ordeal. It would not bode well for his… guardians to discover this, so put on a pair jeans (and some rope to serve as a belt) and a long sleeve shirt, both 3 sizes too big. Best to be prepared in case they decided to work him to bone today. As he lay there, Harry pondered his "freakishness," as his relatives were wont to call it. It had given him a method of retaliation, a means of escape, a form of protection, and a way to heal. Though it had played a role in treatment at the hands of his relatives, they had disliked him for his ancestry alone.

He needed to discover more about… whatever this was. School was a farce anyway, getting better grades than Dudley would have consequences. So he would go to the school library instead. He would research this phenomenon that seemed to defy logic and the known rules of the universe. He would learn all he could about anything that might be even remotely related. Perhaps he would go to the local public library as well, though a library card would probably be out of the question. He would master whatever _it_ was, and uses to either change his environment or flee from it. He would not live a life of servitude. He would not stop until he was free to be who desired to be. However, weakness would not win him his freedom. He needed to gain knowledge. Power. The world was cruel and unforgiving to Harry, and he needed to be ready to face whatever it threw at him.

Harry had an almost unbreakable will. He would not bow to his oppressors, and refused to believe that this would be his lot in life. He desired something _more_…

Harry's life was his own, and he refused to let anyone dictate its course any longer

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

_I am the master of my fate:_

_I am the captain of my soul._

-"Invictus" by William Earnest Henley

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**If you feel it's the Second Coming or the spawn of Satan, I won't know unless you tell me. I will PM you if your review piques my interest through humor, intelligence, or possibly even sheer stupidity.**


End file.
